His horse was slain, and Gieta gave
His own-and died the Russian's slave.
This too sinks after many a league
Of well sustain'd but vain fatigue ;
And in the depth of forests, darkling
The watch-fires in the distance sparkling-
The beacons of surrounding foes-
A king must lay his limbs at length.
Are these the laurels and repose
For which the nations strain their strength?
They laid him by a savage tree,
In out-worn nature's agony;
His wounds were stiff-his limbs were stark-
The heavy hour was chill and dark :
The fever in his blood forbade
A transient slumber's fitful aid:
And thus it was; but yet through all,
Kinglike the monarch bore his fall,
And made, in this extreme of ill,
His pangs the vassals of his will;
All silent and subdued were they,
As once the nations round him lay.
A band of chiefs!-alas! how few,
Since but the fleeting of a day
Had thinn'd it; but this wreck was true
And chivalrous : upon the clay
Each sate him down, all sad and mute,
Beside his monarch and his steed
For danger levels man and brute,
And all are fellows in their need.
Among the rest, Mazeppa made
His pillow in an old oak's shade-
Himself as rough, and scarce less old,
The Ukraine's hetman, calm and bold;
But first, outspent with this long course,
The Cossack prince rubb'd down his horse,
And made for him a leafy bed,
And smooth'd his fetlocks and his mane,
And slack'd his girth, and stripp'd his rein,
And joy'd to see how well he fed
For until now he had the dread
His wearied courser might refuse
To browze beneath the midnight dews:
But he was hardy as his lord,
And little cared for bed and board;
But spirited and docile too ;
Whate'er was to be done, would do.
Shaggy and swift, and strong of limb,
All Tartar-like he carried him ;
Obey'd his voice, and came at call,
And knew him in the midst of all:
Though thousands were around,-and Night,
Without a star, pursued her flight,
That steed from sunset until dawn
His chief would follow like a fawn.
This done, Mazeppa spread his cloak,
And laid his lance beneath his oak,
Felt if his arms in order good
The long day's march had well withstood
If still the powder fill'd the pan,
And flints unloosen'd kept their lock—
His sabre's hilt and scabbard felt,
And whether they had chafed his belt
And next the venerable man,
From out his haversack and can,
Prepared and spread his slender stock;
And to the monarch and his men
The whole or portion offer'd then
With far less of inquietude
Than courtiers at a banquet would.
And Charles of this his slender share
With smiles partook a moment there,
To force of cheer a greater show,
And seem above both wounds and woe ;-
And then he said—« Of all our band,
Though firm of heart and strong of hand, « In skirmish, march, or forage, none « Can less have said or more have done « Than thee, Mazeppa! On the earth «So fit a pair had never birth,
« Since Alexander's days till now, « As thy Bucephalus and thou:
"All Scythia's fame to thine should yield « For pricking on o'er flood and field. » Mazeppa answer'd-« Ill betide
« The school wherein I learn'd to ride! » Quoth Charles-« Old hetman, wherefore so, «Since thou hast learn'd the art so well? » Mazeppa said—«'Twere long to tell ; « And we have many a league to go « With every now and then a blow, «And ten to one at least the foe,
<< Before our steeds may graze at ease Beyond the swift Borysthenes :
And, Sire, your limbs have need of rest, « And I will be the sentinel
«Of this your troop. »-« But I request,
Said Sweden's monarch, «<thou wilt tell
"This tale of thine, and I may reap,
Perchance, from this the boon of sleep, «For at this moment from my eyes The hope of present slumber flies. »
Well, Sire, with such a hope, I'll track
My seventy years of memory back:
"I think 'twas in my twentieth spring,-
"Ay, 'twas, when Casimir was king-
"John Casimir,-I was his page
"Six summers in my earlier age;
"A learned monarch, faith! was he,
«And most unlike your majesty :
He made no wars, and did not gain "New realms to lose them back again; "And (save debates in Warsaw's diet) "He reign'd in most unseemly quiet; "Not that he had no cares to vex,
"He loved the Muses and the sex;
« And sometimes these so froward are,
They made him wish himself at war;
<< But soon his wrath being o'er, he took « Another mistress, or new book:
And then he gave prodigious fêtes
« All Warsaw gather'd round his gates «To gaze upon his splendid court,
And dames, and chiefs of princely port: «He was the Polish Solomon,
Who, being unpension'd, made a satire,
And boasted that he could not flatter.
"It was a court of jousts and mimes,
Where every courtier tried at rhymes;
. Even I for once produced some verses,
"And sign'd my odes, Despairing Thirsis.
VI.
There was a certain Palatine,
« A count of far and high descent,
« Rich as a salt or silver mine (1);
« And he was proud, ye may divine,
"As if from heaven he had been sent:
"He had such wealth in blood and ore
« As few could match beneath the throne;
And he would
gaze upon his store,
And o'er his pedigree would pore,
« Until by some confusion led,
"Which almost look'd like want of head,
« He thought their merits were his own.
"His wife was not of his opinion-
«His junior she by thirty years-
« Grew daily tired of his dominion;
« And, after wishes, hopes, and fears,
"To virtue a few farewell tears,
« A restless dream or two, some glances
« At Warsaw's youth, some songs, and dances,
"Awaited but the usual chances,
"Those happy accidents which render
« The coldest dames so very tender,
To deck her Count with titles given,
« "Tis said, as passports into heaven;
"But, strange to say, they rarely boast
"Of these who have deserved them most.
(1) This comparison of a « salt mine » may perhaps be permitted to a Pole, as the wealth of the country consists greatly in the salt mines.
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